


eight letters

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Love Confessions, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Satine Kryze Needs a Hug, The Author Regrets Everything, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: Five times Obi-Wan Kenobi almost says “I love you” to Satine, and the one time he actually does.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 8
Kudos: 123





	eight letters

**1\. “for you, i would laugh”**

“You’re still too warm,” Satine said, her fingers brushing past his forehead, down to his neck, where beads of sweat were already rolling down. She paused, and then, after a moment, she ripped a part of her tunic and opened the water skin again. Ignoring Obi-Wan’s small whine of protest, she sprinkled some water over the cloth and set it against Obi-Wan’s forehead.

“That’s a waste,” Obi-Wan muttered, trying to shake Satine’s hand away.

“For once in your life, just stay _still_ ,” Satine replied. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Since when were you did play nurse?”

Satine’s icy blue eyes flashed at Obi-Wan. “Since when did you have the energy to make things difficult?”

Obi-Wan was about to respond, but then another cough overtook him—heavier this time, one that made his head lurch back as the breath was stolen away from him. He felt Satine’s hands guide him up into a sitting position, and then her cool hand was pressed against his sweat-drenched back. He let in a shuddery breath, willed it to fill his lungs, and then he was trembling, trying to regain control of himself.

For a while, Satine remained at his side, one hand still on his back, the other resting on her lap. After a pause, she said, “If you didn’t want to fight with me, you could have just said so.”

Obi-Wan let out a weak laugh, but Satine warned, “Don’t do that again.”

“Laugh?” Obi-Wan asked. He barely suppressed a wince. His throat was raw.

“No,” Satine replied. Her hand was still pressed against Obi-Wan’s back, a cool ice to the fire raging inside of him. Her eyes dropped to his face. “You’re allowed to laugh as much as you like,” she said, and perhaps it was just Obi-Wan’s imagination, and perhaps the fever was really starting to addle his brain, because Satine’s voice was suddenly much quieter. She was watching him intently, eyes meeting his briefly before flitting to the other end of their cave. “Although there’s little to laugh at these days, I suppose.”

Obi-Wan just wished she would look at him again.

Her hand was still on his back.

“You,” he said suddenly.

Satine blinked, looking back down at him.

Obi-Wan’s face felt warm, and it had nothing to do with the fever. “For you, I would laugh,” he said quietly. Without thinking, without considering the danger of what he was doing— _because what he was doing was dangerous_ —he lifted a hand to Satine’s cheek, brushing the dirt past her cheek. She stilled under his warm hand, her face cool.

But her eyes were bright, wide, and attentive as she looked back down at him. And then she lifted her other hand from her lap and clasped it around Obi-Wan’s against her cheek. Her fingers tangled themselves around his, her touch light and gentle.

That great heat inside Obi-Wan welled, strengthened into a furnace that threatened to burn him from the inside-out. He could hear the whispers of a few words rising within him— _dangerous words_. Such dangerous words. And yet a part of him yearned to say them, to at least whisper them or mouth them to her, just enough—that could be enough—

But then he heard footsteps from outside the cave, and he saw the top of what could only be Qui-Gon’s head nearing.

So as Obi-Wan dropped his hand from Satine’s face, he swallowed back those words and pushed them down, down, down into that furnace.

**2\. “take care”**

He was staring at the back of Satine’s head.

She bowed to the crowd of cheering people gathered below her balcony, and although Obi-Wan knew the expression on her face remained neutral, he could see from the tightness in her shoulders that was already anticipating the worst to come. He supposed that was what a year of running did to a person.

Shouts and hails floated up to the balcony, shouts and hails for a new beloved duchess who would promise security and freedom. They were pretty cheers, despite the fact that just a year ago, those cheers had been bloodthirsty shouts for the throne to collapse.

But if Satine was thinking the same thing, she again didn’t express any such thoughts. She only waved a hand to her citizens, the beginnings of a small smile stretching across her face. And a part of Obi-Wan stuttered when he saw that smile—because he knew that smile of hers, mostly because he had seen that smile directed at himself.

“Padawan?”

Obi-Wan blinked. He straightened himself, looked up at Qui-Gon. “Yes, Master?”

Qui-Gon’s brows were furrowed, his dark eyes steady and still as he observed, “You are troubled.”

Obi-Wan’s heart jumped. “No, Master,” he replied. “I am merely…thinking.”

“Thinking.” Qui-Gon’s voice was skeptical.

“Yes, Master.”

“Well,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes turning back towards Satine, “There is much to think about.” He flicked his dark gaze back on Obi-Wan. “We will be leaving soon. Best wrap up those thoughts of yours quickly.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan just finished saying those words when Satine turned around.

“Congratulations, Duchess,” Qui-Gon said, dipping his head to Satine.

“Thank you, Master Jinn,” Satine said, her lips curving into a smile.

Obi-Wan’s mouth went dry as Satine turned her attention on him. “Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. “Congratulations.”

Satine’s eyes softened. “Thank you,” she said. She cleared her throat, and looking between the two, she asked slowly, tentatively, “And will you two be…”

“Leaving for Coruscant, I’m afraid,” Qui-Gon said.

“Ah,” Satine said. “I see.” She paused, her eyes flicking once more to Obi-Wan. He told himself to look away, but some incessant part of him compelled him to meet her clear gaze. He was dimly aware that they were still standing on the balcony, the rest of Mandalore beneath them.

“I will be going back to the ship,” Qui-Gon suddenly said. He bowed his head once more to Satine. “Congratulations again, Duchess. It has been an honor.”

“The honor is all mine,” Satine said, and after a brief exchange of smiles, Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan’s side.

They were alone on the balcony together now, still overlooking Mandalore.

For a while, they said nothing as the crowd still cheered and sang and danced below them.

Such a cheerful sight, and yet—Obi-Wan noticed the slight tightness in Satine’s grip over the railings of the balcony. The brightness on her face had faded, replaced by a weary kind of thoughtfulness that made Obi-Wan want to reach to her face, wipe away that strain.

But he kept his hands at his sides.

And then—

“Satine—”

“Obi-Wan—”

They both stopped, looked away.

Finally, Satine said slowly, “Thank you. For being at my side.” She lifted her eyes up to Obi-Wan. A strand of golden hair had fallen down the side of her face, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to brush it over her ear, let his hand linger.

Satine pressed her lips together into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope we meet again soon.”

“As do I.” The words came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth before he could stop them. A mistake—those words were a mistake, because as soon as they left his lips, a great pain flared within him.

Satine blinked a few times. “I…” She hesitated, her eyes searching Obi-Wan’s face. “I—” And then she bit down on her lip, took a step back.

And Obi-Wan did too. He bowed his head to Satine: a Jedi to a politician.

“Take care, Duchess,” he said. He lifted his head back up at Satine, found that she was already turning away.

So Obi-Wan left.

**3\. “are we not?”**

He was stepping out of the lift when he ran into Satine again.

“I—”

“Pardon me—”

Obi-Wan stepped aside briskly, gesturing for Satine to enter the lift first, but Satine only stayed in the hallway. She cleared her throat and, looking away, said, “I think I would rather walk.”

Obi-Wan only stared after her retreating back for a moment before slipping out of the lift. “Satine—” The lift doors slid shut behind him as Satine made her way down the corridor, her head lifted high, her hands clasped behind her back.

Obi-Wan paused again, lifting his head briefly to the ceiling. He could let her walk away. He knew that. He could let her walk away, and they wouldn’t ever have to talk about what happened for the rest of their lives. They didn’t have to talk about what happened.

 _I love you_. She had gasped those last words at him, right when they both thought that Merrik was going to take her away.

And Obi-Wan—

 _Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order_.

He had meant it.

And then in just a matter of minutes, reality had ripped them back down, and Obi-Wan had watched Satine leave, trying to erase his own mind of the words exchanged between the two of them. He _had_ to erase them, otherwise—

But they couldn’t ignore each other forever. Not when they were so close to Coruscant, where Obi-Wan was sure they would continue to see each other again and again.

So Obi-Wan squared his shoulders and followed Satine down the corridor.

“Satine—”

This time, Satine stopped. Her shoulders sank for a moment, and then she turned around. “Yes?” she asked evenly.

Obi-Wan stopped a few paces from her. “About before—”

Something flickered across Satine’s face, but she didn’t turn back around and keep walking away, which Obi-Wan supposed and decided was a good thing. Obi-Wan just prayed that she wouldn’t walk away for what he had to say next.

“We both said things,” Obi-Wan said slowly. _Things we shouldn’t have said._ “And…” His voice drifted as Satine’s eyes locked onto his.

“Yes,” Satine said. “We both said things.” She lifted her shoulders.

 _Another time_ , she had said.

_Another time, then._

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “I hope that those words don’t cause too much of a change between us.” He fought to keep his voice steady as he added, “We are good friends now, are we not?”

They were both silent as the words sank over them like a heavy weight.

Then, pressing her lips into a tight smile, Satine said, “Of course. Friends.” She folded her hands together, straightened herself. “Is that all?”

 _No_.

“I—yes,” Obi-Wan said, averting his eyes.

“Very well,” Satine said quietly.

Obi-Wan didn’t look back up until Satine was at the other end of the hallway.

**4\. “i’m here”**

He had been prepared for the slap to his face, but it still stung.

“How _could_ you?” Satine said, her voice cracking. “I thought you were dead and _gone_ —” Her voice broke off with a tight sob, and then she barreled forward into Obi-Wan, her hands curled into halfhearted fists at his chest.

And despite himself—despite everything raging in him to _not_ , Obi-Wan gently set his hands on Satine’s back, steadying her trembling form. He didn’t dare let himself lean into her, rest his head on her shoulder or her head as he longed to. Fall right back into her arms because if he did, Obi-Wan feared he wouldn’t be able to let himself leave.

So he kept his hesitant hands on Satine’s back, allowed that much.

“I’m here,” was all he could manage to say.

**5\. “i do my own bidding”**

He found her in the cell, her head bent and back turned away from the doors.

Something inside Obi-Wan clenched, tightened at the clear weariness in her body. He had never seen her look so small, so alone in any place. And now, within the cell of her own palace—

Obi-Wan opened the doors.

“Here to do more of your master’s bidding?” Satine’s voice was soft, and yet, Obi-Wan was relieved to find that same edge under her words—that same cold determination that had so often been the source of his nineteen-year old self’s annoyance and respect and something else which he wouldn’t name here.

But Obi-Wan didn’t bother hiding his smile as he lifted his helmet. “I do my own bidding,” he said, and he only had a moment to prepare himself before he heard Satine’s delighted “ _Obi-Wan_ ”, and then she had thrown herself against him, cheek pressed against his chest, hands clutched near him.

And Obi-Wan felt something inside of him relax, just for the briefest of moments. He smiled to himself, allowed a hand on her shoulder. _Safe. She was safe._

They would be safe soon.

**+1**

He couldn’t think.

He brought Satine’s hand to his lips, brushed a gentle kiss over her knuckles. Her hand was already growing cold.

 _I’ve loved you always_ , Satine had whispered.

“And I love you,” he whispered against her hand. Just quiet enough for himself. Just quiet enough for them. Away from the hearing of the Death Watch, away from the hearing of that villain who now sat on Satine’s throne.

 _I have loved you always as well, my dear_.

Obi-Wan carefully set Satine back on the ground. If he ignored the piercing wound at her stomach, Obi-Wan could have pretended she was resting.

But this was not a place to pretend.

Obi-Wan brushed the golden strands of her hair away from her face. Took her cold hands, folded them over the wound. Covering it.

 _I have loved you always as well_.

He was dimly aware of being hauled up to his feet. He heard Maul say something.

But he kept his eyes on Satine’s face.

_I have loved you always as well._

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh,,,,,,maybe I miss them. 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!


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